The Billionaire's CamGirl

“But Le Bain?” Kate probes. “You’re telling me it’s just a coincidence you ended up at the same exact club as us tonight? No offense, Chris, but clubs in the Meatpacking district don’t exactly seem your style.”

“You got me, Kate,” Chris concedes, checking his phone and typing out something I can’t see. I hold my breath not knowing where this is going. “Le Bain is not my scene at all, but some clients from Omaha were meeting there tonight, and I had to indulge them.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding in. Chris is a pretty good liar. Well, I guess already knew that, didn’t I? It seems that Kate is temporarily satisfied by Chris’s explanation, and I further distract her with some of my burger. My years of college with Kate have taught me that she’s a ravenous drunk. My phone dings on the table with a notification from my Sugar Girl app. I hold it under the table and read:

Your panties are still in my pocket and your scent is on my fingers. When can I see you again? Alone.

I shift in my seat as a surge of excitement flows through me. Chris is holding his fingers up to his nose, and where he looked cool and calm before, now he looks deadly serious.

I type back quickly,

We’ll talk later.

His phone pings and luckily Kate is distracted by the remnants of my milkshake to notice these suspicious notifications. Chris looks at his phone and shakes his head, slowly. He mouths, “Not good enough. When?”

I reach under the table again and type,

Call me tomorrow. I can find time.

“That’ll do,” Chris says.

Kate perks up. “What’ll do?” she asks.

“The food. I’m stuffed. In fact, I haven’t felt this satisfied in months.” His hand sneaks under the table and lands on my knee, his fingertips lightly resting on my kneecap and swirling small tickles around it. “What about you, Weaver? Did you have enough, or could you use a little more, get really full?”

“Perfect, thanks,” I say, overwhelmed by his hand creeping up my leg and his double entendres that are flying over Kate’s head. She and Gray Prada must have had a lot to drink. I see her yawning between bites and her eyes aren’t exactly focusing. I think it’s time I get her out of here.

“So what do you ladies have planned this weekend?” Chris asks.

“Actually,” Kate slurs, looking up from the plate of onion rings she’s almost finished off, “I was planning on stopping by the food and wine expo tomorrow morning. Early. It’ll just be a couple of hours. I promised my partner I’d talk to this truffle farmer. I’ll be back by noon and then we can hit the city. I swear, Weaver.”

“I figured your timing was pretty convenient,” I kid Kate. “I’m taking Kate to Staten Island tomorrow afternoon. There’s a small Italian restaurant, a real hole-in-the-wall, but they serve the best Carbonara outside Italy. Kate and I used to spend hours there in college, and then take the ferry back, completely drunk on Chianti.”

“Those were some wild times,” Kate says, her eyes softening with nostalgia. “We had some of our best conversations on that ferry, huddling together to stay warm. We could never sit inside, Chris. Always outside in the fresh air. A heavy meal, too much wine, and the rocky New York Harbor were a very bad combination.”

“We did learn our lesson once,” I howl. “I’d never been so sick in my life.”

Kate and I tell Chris a few more stories about college and our adventures, but I can tell Kate’s fading when she leans her head back on the booth and her eyes start to flutter closed. It’s time to call it a night.

“Wake up, Katie,” I coo softy to her. “Time to go.”

I stand up and grab my purse, and Chris stands up behind me. He takes my hand in his and leans down and whispers, “Tomorrow. I won’t take no for an answer.”

His breath feels so good on my skin and his lips are so close to mine. I want to turn my head, it would just take the slightest quirk of my chin to make my lips brush his, to feel that electricity one last time. But I can’t. Not now. Not in front of Kate.

So all I do is say, “OK,” and I walk away, leading Kate out the door and leaving Chris behind, staring after me.

As soon as we’re on the street, the night air revives Kate and she starts the interrogation.

“What do you know about him? Do you really think he just happened to run into you tonight? This seems pretty, pretty fishy to me,” she says.

I step into the street and look up and down for an available taxi. A few speed by, but they’re either occupied or off duty.